Analysis of the Climb

The well has never been
This deep
This dark
This dry
The light above so dim
So barely circular
All I can do
Is claw the walls
And  hope I can
And  throw my  what my
Tattered of remaining hope up
Like a rope
Trusting it will stick
Let loose a line
Coil on a hook
Somewhere.
Down  here my  soul is barren
As  this
Well bottom
Scoured  of moisture
And  bitter with dust.
I dropped my  trust
It dipped, precious as
Water  through these bald
Cracks
And  disappeared, and now
I cannot get it back.

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